Epiphany
by penny4him
Summary: AR. Drizzt's son, 19yr old Zaknafein Do'Urden wonders where he is going in life, but an unexpected event suddenly makes things crystal clear. Meanwhile, his daughter Violet must make some decisions of her own. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Perfection

_Disclaimer: The recognizable characters appearing in this story are © Wizards of the Coast, Inc., all rights reserved. They are used without permission and for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made by the author for writing this story. No infringement upon nor challenge to the rights of the copyright holders is intended; nor should any be inferred._

**Epiphany**

Chapter 1: Perfection

Zak finished the sword dance for the fourth time in a row and lowered his blades, sweat stinging his eyes.

"Perfect. Now do it again."

Zak wiped his sweaty palms and cast his father a look of annoyance. Here he was, sweltering in the afternoon sun while his father stood in the shade at the edge of the clearing. What's more, the drow was casually resting against a tree with his arms crossed. _So irritating_. "You said it was perfect. Why should I do it again?"

Drizzt remembered back to the practice gym in dark Menzoberanzzen all those years ago. He'd asked his father that same question more than once, but the answer was always, merely, "_Shall we make it twice more?_" For a moment Drizzt considered giving the same response, but he decided an explanation would serve better purpose here. "It _was_ perfect–" Zak grinned and looked like he was about to say something, but Drizzt carried on "–_but_ if you want it to _remain_ perfect, you must practice perfection. If you want your arms and legs to automatically perform the right attacks and blocks in a battle, if you want your subconscious mind to guide your every move, then it is not enough to merely practice _until you reach_ perfection – you must _practice perfection_."

The nineteen-year-old looked thoughful. He regarded his own reflection in his right sword blade, long and straight. Then he nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Alright." He assumed the opening stance, but to his surprise Drizzt came out from the shade and drew his own blades, falling into position right beside him.

"Begin."

Four blades cut the air in perfect harmony, two long swords and two curving scimitars. A dance of perfect synchronization. Zak felt his father's scimitar rushing down a mere inch from his left shoulder as they both performed a downward chop with their right blade, but it did not concern him in the least. He knew who he was fighting beside. Their inner blades clashed in a metallic ring as both executed a left block and a right slash, still in perfect harmony.

"_He has come a long ways_," Drizzt thought as they continued the sequence. Zak's finely controlled moves were indeed becoming honed to a finer edge each day. With a final upper block and forward lunge, the sword dance ended. Drizzt nodded in approval and said once again, "Perfect."

Zak grinned at his father's praise, his breath coming hard after practicing the rountine five times. "Perfect enough to call it a day?"

Drizzt smiled. "That's up to you," he said, turning to walk away.

Zak _hated_ that reply. Obviously he was tired, and sick of the sword dance already, but Drizzt's "It's-up-to-you" didn't really allow him to quit practicing – not if he wanted to appear dedicated anyway. Then again, maybe if he _did_ call it a day he would appear confident and decisive. He wanted to be all three – dedicated, confident, and decisive – but sometimes he felt like he was none of those things. Who was he really? Was he just becoming another Drizzt Do'Urden? And if he didn't, what would people think? Nothing less than weapons master-like ability would be expected from the son of the legend. And yet...what did Zak want to do personally? What were his goals? He didn't know, and that left him with these irritating, nagging feelings of uncertainty. Zak sheathed his swords. He needed to think. He wiped his sweaty palms, picked up his discarded cloak, and headed into the quiet coolness of the forest.


	2. Atrocity

Chapter 2: Atrocity

Seventeen-year-old Violet Do'Urden admired the fall colors as she stripped off her leggings, tunic, and underclothes, dropping them in a pile beside the rushing stream. Hues of red, orange, yellow and green against a blue sky never failed to lift her spirits. She loved the outdoors. The days were growing chilly – the afternoon sun was still warm, but the slight breeze brought goose bumps to her dusky skin. She placed her small, finely crafted dagger atop the pile of discarded clothing and pulled the silver butterfly pin from her long white hair. Taking a deep breath she plunged into the stream all at once. She couldn't help gasping as the cold water hit her bare skin. "Looks like this will be my last outdoor bath until next spring," she mused. By the time she was done rinsing the last of the soap suds from her long white hair, Violet's teeth were chattering nearly uncontrollably. Perhaps that's why she didn't hear them coming.

-----

Violet squeezed the icy water from her hair and turned back to the bank, reaching for her linen towel. At the same moment as she noticed the three men on the river bank, one of them grasped her reaching arm. "Looking for these?" he asked, holding up her undergarments. As the other two brutes chuckled and openly stared at her bare breasts, the man who had her by the wrist hauled her up onto the river bank. Violet's mind raced, and she decided a few things very quickly – her dagger was out of reach, the three men were much stronger than she, and although she was sure she could outrun these men, it would certainly be difficult to free herself. All these things occured to her in a split second, and Violet drew in a deep breath and screamed as loudly and as piercingly as she could.

"Hey now, none of that," he captor began, but Violet gained purchase on the grassy river bank and kicked him as hard as she could in the groin. Naked did not mean defenseless. The man crumpled to the ground and Violet was able to jerk her wrist free. Immediately she turned to run, dodging the second man's clumsy grab, but a moment later she felt herself tripped up, the ground rushing to meet her. Violet screamed again as a heavy boot was planted on her back. "No more of that," an oily voice said in her ear, and she felt the unmistakable bite of cold steel against the side of her neck. "It would be a shame to have to kill such an exotic beauty."

Violet felt sick inside and was only slightly gratified to hear the first man vomiting beside the stream. "Oh Mielikki," she prayed inside, "Help me now." She heard the clicking of a crossbow being readied.

"Neddy's got his bow on you," the oily voice hissed in her ear, "so don't try anything stupid." The heavy man removed his dagger from her neck and roughly turned her over. "Ol' Joe may not be feelin' so well," he said, glancing towards his comrade who was only just getting to his knees, "but me & Neddy ain't finished with you yet." Violet looked at the crossbow quarrel and the ugly man leering at her from behind it.

"That's right," said the one called Neddy, "so get on wi' it Jack, so's I can have my turn."

Jack grinned and began loosening his trousers. Violet rightly guessed that Neddy would hesitate to shoot her just for screaming, and took the opportunity to scream again, but it earned her such a fierce backhand from Jack that she tasted blood and felt her cheekbone bruising. "No...More...Noise!" Jack hissed, slapping her savagely between each word.

Violet couldn't hold back a sob. She had never felt so helpless in her life. She prayed that it would be over quickly.

-----

A/N: In progress.

Please leave a review...I want to know what you think...


	3. Wages of Sin

Chapter 3: Wages of Sin

_"Sin pays its workers – the wages are death."_

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"Let her go!" Zaknafein Do'Urden charged out of the trees like an avenging angel, a naked sword in each hand.

Joe took one look at this half-drow apparition, got up from the river bank, splashed across the stream and ran into the woods on the other side. Neddy, however, swung his crossbow around and leveled it at Zak's head. The half-drow stopped short.

Jack still stood with his trousers at half-mast, one boot on and one boot off, and laughed evilly. His eyes flicked back and forth between Zaknafein and Violet, comparing their dusky skin and pointed ears.

Neddy grinned from behind his crossbow. "Should I shoot?" he asked Jack.

"Naw..." Jack kicked off his other boot. "Not _yet_. Her...brother, is it? can watch."

Zak's face twisted in rage and he lunged forward, suddenly heedless of the crossbow. By some divine providence Neddy's bolt went wide, missing Zak's head by a hair's breadth, and the crossbowman turned and ran, fearful of the look in Zak's eyes that promised only death.

Jack brandished his dagger, but Zaknafein had it out of his hand in one swift sword stroke. He reversed his grip suddenly and smashed his sword pommels into the man's face – payment for the bruise on Violet's cheek. Jack staggered but did not go down. The half-drow swept out a leg and tripped up the half-dressed pervert, who fell hard. Then he pressed one sword tip against Jack's throat hard enough to draw a bead of blood. He yanked the cloak off of his own shoulders with one hand and threw it to Violet without looking at her. "The only thing I'm going to watch," Zaknafein said tightly, his lavender eyes deadly, "is you being emasculated with your own dagger!"

-----

When Zak left the riverbank Violet was still clutching Jack's bloody dagger in her hand. His swords were stained with blood too, and he planned to bloody them some more before he returned home. He moved in a dream-like state; everything was surreal and hazy, muted and unrealistic. He had just killed a man, but he couldn't think about it now. All there was was tracking. He tracked quickly, silently, lavender eyes missing nothing. His whole world was suddenly so simple: Find them. Kill them.

-----

Violet finished washing in the river, willing her hands to stop shaking. _It_ had not happened. It had _not_ happened. She clenched her own small dagger fiercely in one hand, unwilling to return it to its place on her belt. Suddenly her beautiful woods seemed a sinister, evil place. A twig snapped and Violet jumped, only to see a brown squirrel scurrying through the branches. She willed her racing heart to slow.

Zak had said he'd take her home, but his eyes kept flicking to the trampled undergrowth where the other two assailants had fled. "I'm fine Zak, _go_!" she had insisted. He had not hesitated. It wasn't true, she wasn't fine, but as much as she didn't want to be left alone, Violet wanted nothing more than for him to hunt _them_ down. As Zaknafein had stepped into the forest suddenly she had wanted to call after him, with every fibre of her being she had wanted to scream "_Don't leave me alone!!_" But she hadn't. She pictured her attacker's faces again – evil, ugly, leering. Angrily she willed those faces out of her mind.

"These are my woods, _xsa dos_! These are _my woods_, and you will _not_ spoil them for me!" A sparrow high in the branches gave her a strange look, cocking his little head sideways, then flitting away. Somehow saying the words aloud gave Violet the confidence she needed. She stood up straight, turned her back on the river, and headed for home.

-----

_"xsa dos!"_ = "damn you!"

A/N: In-progress. All reviews welcome – please leave one :)


	4. Epiphany

Chapter 4: Epiphany

A/N: This chapter is a journal entry from Zaknafein. Since Drizzt is introspective, it seemed fitting that Zak would be that way too. Sorry it's short...I hope you still enjoy...

Epiphany

_When I heard Violet's screams and came upon the scene at the riverbank, a realization came upon me. It's something I've always known, but only now was I facing it personally – there is much evil in this world. Growing up I always knew my father was fighting evil, making the Dale a safer place for us all. Yet that evil was somehow removed, distant. Though I would not say I've lived a sheltered life, in some ways I was indeed sheltered. In that moment I stared the raw evil straight in the face for the first time. Thank Mielikki I had not arrived any later._

_When it became clear that I had control of the situation, for a moment I was uncertain. I could capture these would-be rapists and deliver them to the local magistrate. Even though two had fled, there was no doubt in my mind that I could catch them up. My father's instruction in tracking, though it had seemed tedious at times, had not been in vain, and certainly I could move more swiftly and stealthily than any human. And yet – what would be the outcome of the testimony of three men against two half-drow? Imprisonment? Flogging? Perhaps they would be made to pay a fine of gold pieces? Or perhaps...nothing. Prejudices still run deep, and who's to say that _my_ word – our word – would even be believed? In that instant it was though an epiphany came upon me, and I do not use the term lightly. There is another kind of evil in this world, and that is the evil of justice _not_ carried out, of the guilty going free, of punishments that do not fit the crime. _

_In that instant I _knew_. I knew what I must do. I knew who I must be. I would be the arm of justice. I would rid the world of this evil so that other sisters and daughters and wives would be protected. Where the meager law that exists was corrupt, I would be blameless. Where the meager law that exists failed, I would not fail. I would no longer contribute to the prosperity of evil by taking no stand at all, by falsely believing that it was not my place. I would dedicate my swords to justice._

_I killed three men today. In some ways I still feel as though it was a dream; in other ways I'm oddly at peace with it. My ears were deaf to pleas, explanations. The swords in my hands were justice. Where there was no law, I became the law. In that moment _I_ was justice, justice for Violet and for all the others they may have already harmed, and would harm in the future. I killed three men today – killed, but did not _murder_. The swords in my hands were justice. _

A/N: In progress. All reviews welcome – please leave one :)


	5. Home

Chapter 5: Home

Violet paused at the edge of the clearing and took a long deep breath. She rested her slender hand on an oak tree and watched a startled furred lizard scurry away up the trunk and into the branches. Father was sitting on the bench against one side of the house polishing his scimitars. Mum was practicing with Taulmaril, sending silver arrows streaking toward an impossibly small target. They were talking and laughing – Violet couldn't make out the words, but the cheerful laughter floated to her clearly. "_Calm, Violet_," she told herself. "_It didn't happen. Be calm_." She started towards the house.

Cattie-brie fired off one last shot and caught sight of her daughter. "Water cold enough for ye?" she kidded as Violet approached. The sixteen-year-old had her cloak wrapped tightly around her, as if protecting herself from a winter storm.

Drizzt glanced up from his polishing and smiled. "You didn't bring home any furred lizards, did you?" He waited expectantly for her to make some comment about such an old joke.

Violet tried to smile, but her face felt frozen. Her legs, too, felt oddly numb and she stopped walking, staring mutely at the ground.

Drizzt and Cattie-brie exchanged a brief concerned glance.

"Sweetie, is something wrong?"

_Everything's wrong, mum_. She didn't say the words out loud. "Th-There were th-three men–" Violet stopped, surprised at how hysterical her own voice sounded – she had tried to keep it steady. "And, and..." she clapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn't go on or she would cry.

Drizzt was on his feet in an instant, gleaming scimitars in hand. "Where?" His tone was deadly.

"_Wait – wait,_" Violet signed one-handed in the drow code.

Cattie-brie was up too, at her side in two strides. "Violet! Your face!" she exclaimed, noticing the puffy bruises. "Your face!" She put her arm around her daughter and gently guided her to walk to the bench and sit down. "M'dear, sweet girl, what happened?!"

"I should have been more on my guard, I didn't hear them coming, and–" Violet tried unsuccessfully to choke back a sob.

Drizzt crouched down in front of the bench and put a hand on Violet's shoulder, but he was shocked when she flinched at his touch. "Violet, these men, did they..." he couldn't bring himself to say it. His lavender eyes were deadly serious. "Did they hurt you?" It was obvious from her bruised face that they had, but they both knew that that wasn't what he meant.

Violet couldn't go on talking out loud – she knew she would cry even harder if she tried. She switched to the drow hand code again. "_They grabbed me from the river. I screamed and fought but I couldn't get away. They were going to...they almost...but Zaknafein came, Zaknafein rescued me – they had only hit me, they didn't actually..._"

The sickening feeling of dread in Drizzt's stomach eased somewhat.

"_Two of them fled. He's hunting them; he's going to kill them – he killed the one who almost..._" she stopped again. "Oh _kel'nar_, if he had come moments later..." she'd spoken out loud this time and broke down sobbing again.

"Oh Vi! M'dear girl!" Cattie-brie was crying too – anger, relief, and outrage mingled in her tears. She hugged her daughter fiercely.

Drizzt got to his feet, hands on the hilts of his now-sheathed scimitars. He glanced toward the forest trail. "I'm going." The words were directed to Cattie-brie.

Violet glanced up. "I should've been more on guard _kel'nar_, I should've had my dagger closer..."

"Violet." His tone was gentle, but somehow commanding. "This is _not_ your fault. Don't ever believe that this is your fault."

"But–"

"I mean it." And then he was gone.

Cattie-brie rubbed Violet's back and tried to compose herself. She needed to be strong for her girl. Drizzt and Zak would take care of those men, but she needed to take care of Vi. She fished a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to Violet. "It's true," she soothed. "It's not yer fault."

"Maybe I shouldn't have been bathing outside."

Cattie-brie drew in a breath and slowly let it out. "Violet, have ye _ever_ met another living person out in these woods, exceptin' our family?"

"N-no."

"Neither have I – we're no' very close to town."

"But maybe any man would've tried to do what they did...and, and, I shouldn't have been there!"

"No, Violet. A good man would a' seen ye and walked away. An ordinary man–" she shook her head and smiled without amusement, "well, an ordinary man probably would a' watched ye for awhile from the bushes and then left. But only _evil_ men would have done what these men did."

"I guess."

"I know it." Cattie-brie paused. "Ye can't control the actions of others, Violet. It was _not_ yer fault, and don't ye ever believe that it was."

Vi managed a weak smile. "Okay."

Cattie-brie hugged her again. "That's m'girl. Now come on in and I'll fix you some tea."

-----

Zak was sitting on the riverbank tossing pebbles into the water one by one when Drizzt found him. He glanced up. Even in the fading light the nineteen-year-old could see the worry etched onto his father's face.

"Dead?"

Zak nodded and looked away, not meeting his father's eyes. He continued to toss pebbles.

Drizzt sank down onto the grass beside him, but said nothing further.

Finally Zak had no more stones in his hand. He stared into the water for a moment. "They're all dead – all three of them."

Now it was Drizzt's turn to nod.

Zak wasn't quite sure what his father was thinking – as far as that went, now that the daylight was fading his certainty seemed to be fading with it. He'd had no doubts before – why was he suddenly doubting now?

"I would have killed them too."

Whatever seeds of doubt had been trying to grow in Zaknafein's mind, they were swiftly uprooted with that one simple statement. He looked up, lavender eyes smoldering. "If I would've come half a minute later, they would've already–" he didn't continue the thought. "Anyway, their intentions were clear, and it was disgraceful enough to her as it was!"

Drizzt nodded again. "Who else have they violated before?" he asked softly, "and who would they go on to violate if you would've let them go?"

"I think it would have been _wrong_ to let them go, father!"

"I think you're right."

They were both silent for a moment. "_K__el'nar_?" Zaknafein suddenly sounded very young again – like the little boy he had once been, seeking reassurance from his father. "Is Violet alright?"

Drizzt considered. "I don't know Zak...I really don't know." He thought of his daughter, normally so resilient, stubborn, care-free. "I think she will be though...I pray she will be." He'd amended his last statement so softly that Zaknafein wasn't sure if his father was still addressing him or not.

-----

_kel'nar_ = dad

A/N: In progress. One more chapter, I think, and I hope to get it written before too long :)

See that review button down there? Click on it :) "Please write some words and send them."


	6. Train Me

Chapter 6: Train Me

A/N: _Chapter 5 (_Home_) has been revised. And as always, translations for the drow language are footnoted._

Violet had gone straight to sleep after supper – somehow her ordeal had left her exhausted – or perhaps it was just the chamomile mum had put in her tea. Either way, by the time she'd finished her venison stew she could barely keep her eyes open any longer. Father and Zaknafein still had not returned, and she went into the study to rest on the couch, intending to wait for them, but not to sleep. The overstuffed sofa was entirely too comfortable, however, and sleep overtook her within minutes.

When she awoke hours later the house was dark and still. Someone had put a warm blanket over her, and a fire burned low in the hearth, mostly just softly glowing coals now. Violet sat up and pushed the blanket aside. A look out the window told her it was still night – maybe two more hours until dawn. She stole into the kitchen, avoiding all the creaking floorboards by long habit. In the moonlight she could see four pairs of soft leather boots by the door, and all of the cloaks hanging on their pegs on the wall. Father and Zaknafein were safely home. She got a drink from the water pail and then slipped upstairs and into her own bed, but found she could not sleep. She kept replaying the events at the riverbank over and over in her mind, and wondering if she could have done things differently – could have somehow fought them off instead of just being so...helpless.

By the time the first rays of dawn were lighting the horizon Violet was resolved. Sleep had not come, but a decision had – she needed to train. She would learn to fight _without_ weapons, and then she would never be so helpless again.

-----

When Drizzt got up and went out to watch the sunrise as was his habit even after all these years, he was surprised to find Violet waiting for him.

She smiled somewhat shyly, not sure about joining him in something he customarily did alone. "Morning, _kel'nar_."

But she needn't have worried – Drizzt's smile was warm and inviting. "Morning, Vi." He sat beside her on the little bench, and this time when he put his arm around her briefly and squeezed her shoulder, he was relieved to find that she did not flinch at his touch.

They watched the sunrise in silence, beautiful hues painted against the sky.

"_Kel'nar_, did Zaknafein...?" her voice trailed off. "Are they dead?"

"Yes."

Violet nodded, but her face was oddly devoid of expression. Drizzt wondered what she was thinking.

"Zaknafein killed them all. I would have done the same – it was just."

Violet smiled a small, relieved smile, but something else was bothering her. "_Kel'nar_? We...we did something to the man who was going to...you know. We did something to him. I don't know if it was right."

Drizzt's eyes widened as she elaborated, but he said nothing for several moments. He cleared his throat. "Whether it was right or not –" he couldn't hide his wry grin as he went on "–I won't condemn you for that."

She met his eyes and nodded, satisfied.

Drizzt studied her face for a moment, curious. "Whose idea...?"

Violet smiled mischievously but did not answer. She looked away, apparently suddenly fascinated with a small ant crawling up the bench leg.

Drizzt figured he knew the answer already, more from this entire conversation than anything else. He smiled wryly and shook his head. _Zaknafein_. Somehow, oddly enough, the drow was reminded of a family picnic when the children were about nine and eleven years old. The menu had consisted of fried mushrooms – loved by Zaknafein but hated by Violet, and spiced meatballs (of which the opposite was true), among other foods. The children were, of course, required to eat a little bit of everything which, in that particular case, meant two mushrooms for Vi and two meatballs for Zaknafein. Even Drizzt had missed it the first time but not the second – a quick and subtle trading of the two hated foods between the siblings. Somehow he had been strangely delighted at the camaraderie between the two, and never let on that he noticed the trade. Obviously that sibling bond still ran as deep as ever today.

"Father?"

Violet's serious tone brought his mind back to the present. "I want you to train me."

"Alright...what weapon?"

"Unarmed."

_Unarmed_? Drizzt felt somewhat at a loss – he supposed it wasn't such a strange request, given the events of yesterday, but it certainly wasn't his forte. Violet was amazing with a bow in her hand, though small throwing daggers seemed to be her favorite weapon. She was making progress with scimitars, although she would much rather be out in the woods, taming small birds and animals. Drizzt spent a lot more of his time training Zak – he was, after all, two and a half years older than Vi, and would probably leave home soon. The ranger still found time for Violet, however, and although she was less than enthusiastic about long blades, she was making good progress with them too. But...unarmed?

"I can teach you the basics," Drizzt said at last, "but beyond that..." he shook his head.

Violet looked up at him, and her sapphire blue eyes were piercing in their intensity. "I _never_ want to feel helpless again, just because I don't have a weapon in my hand!"

Drizzt regarded her for a long moment. At last he spoke: "I understand. I'll teach you what I can, _d'anthe uss_."

Violet leaned against his shoulder and breathed in the pine-and-woodsmoke smell of his cloak. She closed her eyes. "Thank you, _kel'nar_."

-----

_kel'nar_ = dad

_d'anthe uss _= "dear one"

A/N: In progress.

Opinions, thoughts, feelings?


	7. Hand to Hand, Heart to Heart

Chapter 7: Hand-to-Hand, Heart-to-Heart

A/N:_ Sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up! Hope you're still enjoying the story..._

It had been a long time since Drizzt had done any hand-to-hand fighting. His father, as weapons master of House Do'Urden, had of course taught him the basics of unarmed combat, just as he had taught him the basics of each and every weapon on the rack in Daermon Na'shezbaernon's well-equipped practice gym. Long blades had quickly become the focus, however. Now Drizzt felt strange indeed without those familiar scimitars belted at his hips. He dropped his cloak on the bench beside the house and walked out into the clearing, methodically stretching his muscles as he waited for Violet to come out.

She emerged a few minutes later, long white hair tied up and fastened with its customary silver butterfly pin. The hairpiece had been a present from Grandpa Bruenor, and though the surly old dwarf refused to admit it, Drizzt knew he had crafted it himself. The ranger frowned slightly at his daughter's odd choice of attire for sparring, but made no comment as she joined him in the clearing and began to stretch as well. She was wearing the same thing she had worn that morning – doeskin leggings and boots, and a heavy wool tunic with long sleeves, topped lastly by her cloak. The fall morning had definitely been chilly, but now the afternoon sun blazed overhead. Even if it would have been cooler out, it was still a strange choice of clothing for sparring. The drow shrugged mentally and dismissed it as Violet finished her last few stretches and stood up.

"Ready, _kel'nar_."

"Good. We'll start with blocking. Just as in armed combat, you want to block and deflect your opponent's blows when you are on the offensive..."

"Ooof!" Violet's breath came out in a rush as she failed to evade a sweep kick that knocked her unceremoniously to the ground. She groaned and dragged a sleeve across her forehead, wiping the sweat away, then just lay there on the grass for a few moments. Father's basic instruction had seemed so clear and obvious, especially with all of her armed combat training, so they had quickly progressed to actual sparring. It wasn't going so well though...

Within moments Drizzt was at his daughter's side giving her a hand up, a look of concern on his face. He thought he had moved slowly and obviously enough...maybe he was pushing her too hard, especially after the events of yesterday. "Sorry, Vi."

She waved him away and smiled, a bit perfunctorily. "It's alright – I'm just so hot...and tired..."

Her hand, indeed, had been surprisingly hot and sweaty in his own, though they hadn't been sparring for very long. "Well, you could take off your cloak for one thing...and that wool tunic?" he chuckled softly. "It's more suited for winter than a day like today."

Violet returned his smile but hers somehow seemed mechanical, without feeling. She shrugged off her cloak and tossed it aside, assuming a ready position again.

Drizzt glanced up at the sun briefly. It wasn't about to get any cooler out. "I think we're making good progress here _d'anthe uss_...why don't you go and change into something cooler and then come back out?"

"I'm _fine_, _kel'nar_," she insisted, a little too quickly.

Drizzt raised an eyebrow at the lie – he could see the sweat on her face from where he stood, stray hairs curling in damp ringlets on her forehead, and she certainly was doing somewhat less than "fine" in the sparring, much to his dismay. He regarded her for a moment, and suddenly he was seeing a very young girl again, a girl who's hand had just been bitten by a poisonous lizard. But why the lie this time? Something was going on here – something he was missing.

As always when she lied, Violet found she couldn't hold his gaze. Those lavender eyes were too intense, seeming to peer right inside of her, asking questions she did not want to answer. She looked away and busied herself with brushing at an imaginary smudge of dirt on the side of her leggings.

Drizzt considered his daughter for a long moment, and suddenly he _knew_. "Violet." His voice was quiet and he gestured to a shady spot on the edge of the forest when she looked up. "Why don't we take a little break?"

"We really don't have to–"

"Come."

Somehow she knew that last word was no longer a suggestion.

Drizzt's eyes searched the sky as his mind searched for words. Violet sat cross-legged beside him, picking blades of grass one by one.

"It's good to be careful," the ranger said at last, "to be wise...but there's a difference between wisdom and extremism."

Violet gave an almost imperceptible nod, but did not look up.

"If a fire gets out of control it can cause great harm – but does that mean that we should never light a candle in the house, or eat anything that has to be cooked?" He waited a moment but she said nothing. "We _could_ live on roots, berries, and mushrooms," he went on, "maybe eat raw fish–"

"Eww, Father!"

He laughed, but was glad he had at least gotten some sort of response out of her – this wasn't supposed to be a monologue. "In any case, it might be best if we never went into town again, not to mention to a city – I know first-hand that there can be bandits along the road, pickpockets and cut purses in the streets...not to mention what passes for food in some of the inns..."

Violet laughed and finally looked up at him. "You sound like Uncle Regis!"

Drizzt laughed too. "I do, don't I?" After a moment his face turned serious and he held Violet's gaze with his own. "Violet, there are evil men in this world, but you can't let that stop you from dressing practically."

She didn't say anything for a moment, and when she finally did speak it was in a small voice, hesitant and uncertain. "But maybe if I dress like this all the time I'll always be safe..."

"And maybe if we never light a fire again we'll all be a lot safer..."

"_Kel'nar_, it's not the same!"

"Isn't it?" His tone was not unkind.

Violet looked back down at the little pile of grass blades in front of her and considered that for a long while, absentmindedly picking up the grass and slowly scattering it, watching the light breeze carry it away. Really it _was_ the same, wasn't it?

Drizzt smiled gently and reached over to pick a stray bit of grass out of her hair. "Violet, beauty should neither be flaunted nor hidden, and in the past you have done neither. There is no need to start now."

Vi looked up finally and nodded slowly. He made a good point, even aside from the fact that she'd been sweaty profusely in her long sleeves, which seemed to have taken away half of her energy and more than half of her concentration. It was true – there was no need to live in fear of fire, or to spend the rest of her remaining springs, summers, and falls in sweaty misery. "_Kel'nar_?" Violet stood up and brushed the grass off of her leggings. "I think I'm going to go in and change now."

He smiled and nodded. "Good."

_kel'nar_ = dad

_d'anthe uss_ = dear one

In progress. All reviews welcome!


	8. Departure

Chapter 8: Departure

Violet turned away from her window to survey the small room once more before she left. There was the old familiar patchwork quilt, neatly draped over her single bed, its colors faded but still cheerful. On top of the quilt sat Dolly, the much-loved and tattered rag doll she had played with as a child and hadn't the heart to throw away. Impulsively Violet reached out and gathered up the little doll into a hug for a moment, then, feeling rather foolish, quickly set it back down. She glanced towards the room's open door, but no one was in the hall.

Violet trailed her slender fingers along the edge of her nightstand, the smooth feel of the wood somehow comforting. The little table was graced with a vase of late-blooming wildflowers she had collected that morning. Vi closed her eyes briefly and inhaled the sweet scent. A wooden clothing chest stood at the foot of the bed, empty now. All of her clothes were packed. The only other furnishings the room contained were a small dressing table and chair, and a washstand with pitcher and bowl. Violet walked around silently touching everything, saying goodbye. She wondered if she would ever return to this room, to this house, again. Suddenly there was a lump in her throat. A quiet footstep behind her made her jump, startling her out of her reverie. Zaknafein stood in the doorway, his pack in hand and a quizzical expression on his face.

"Vi." He met her blue eyes briefly, then looked away, somehow feeling as though he were intruding.

"Zak..." They still hadn't ever spoken of what happened that day at the stream, and now it hung between them as a tangible awkwardness, defeating the easy camaraderie they usually enjoyed. That had to end, Violet thought. She would not lose that, just as she refused to lose her love of the woods for the sake of fear.

Zak turned on his heel, as if to go, and slipped his backpack on, but Violet suddenly called out, "Zaknafein, wait!"

He turned back, a question in his eyes. She did not speak, but took a step forward and slipped her arms around him in a hug. He hesitated, then returned the gesture for a brief moment before stepping back.

"I want you to know I only–"

"I never really thanked–"

They had both spoken at once, and both stopped abruptly. Violet smiled encouragingly at her brother, waiting for him to continue.

Zak cleared his throat and shouldered past her suddenly to look out the open window, his hands tightly gripping the sill. He spoke in a rush before he changed his mind. "I want you to know I only think of you as my little sister, and that hasn't changed. I'm sorry I saw you–"

"Zak! You don't have to apologize to me!" Violet was incredulous. "What _I_ was trying to say was, I'm so glad you were there, and thank you – thank you for saving me. _I'm_ sorry I didn't say it sooner...it was just...a lot of things to think about."

"I know." He turned back from the window and smiled at her, then took a step forward and caught her in a fierce hug. "I'll miss you, Vi."

"You too, Zak." She returned the hug just as tightly. His shirt had a pleasant woodsmoke smell, like father's.

"The Snowflake Mountains, eh?" Zak released her and adjusted his pack more comfortably on his shoulders.

"Mmmhmm." Violet picked up her own pack from beside the bed and slipped it on. "_Kel'nar_ says Danica is the best hand-to-hand fighter he knows, and when we wrote her she said she'd be delighted to train me."

"You don't have to join her religion or anything?"

"No."

"Just checking."

Violet smiled. "I'm glad we're all going together, to bring me there."

"So am I."

They were both silent for a long moment, and Violet felt the moisture building up in her eyes again. She turned suddenly and smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from the bedspread.

"Hey..." Zak fought to keep his voice steady and somehow managed. "Mum and _k__el'nar_ are already waiting...race you outside!"

"What?" Violet's head snapped up, and the tears in her eyes were replaced with a sudden competitive gleam.

Zak grinned. She never could resist a challenge. "I said, 'race you outside'!"

"You're on!"

"Mark...set...GO!" He bolted for the door and was too busy gloating over the fact that he was ahead of his sister to notice that she wasn't behind him.

As soon as the word "go" was off of Zak's tongue, Violet was moving, not towards the door, but towards the window. Her room was upstairs, but a sturdy oak tree conveniently grew right outside, within easy reach. She lept into the tree, heedless of splinters, and scrabbled down recklessly, her hands and feet finding the branches more by luck than anything else. Even as she descended, a memory flashed through her mind of climbing down this tree as a child...

It was a warm summer's evening and nine-year-old Violet had been put to bed far too early, by her estimation. How could she possibly sleep when it was still so light out, and the birds were chirping in the meadow? All at once she threw back her covers, tip-toed barefoot to her open window, climbed up onto the ledge, and into the oak tree. She crept down ever so quietly, heart pounding in her ears all the while, then dropped lightly to the ground, undetected. She took one glance back at the house, then scampered off to the meadow to play.

It was only a few minutes later, however, when Mum took a casual glance out of the kitchen window, saw Violet, and shortly thereafter marched her back to bed.

The next night Violet thought to try the same thing, only this time she'd make sure she couldn't be seen from the house at all. Violet waited about ten minutes after being tucked in, for good measure, then slipped to the window and swung one leg over the sill. She reached out for a tree branch and was so startled by a low growl that she nearly lost her balance and fell all the way to the ground. She was eye to eye with a six hundred pound black panther.

"Guenhwyvar!" Violet hissed, "what are you doing here?"

The cat growled again, louder this time, and suddenly a warning voice came from downstairs – "Back to bed, Violet."

She sat on the window ledge for a moment in stunned silence. He'd set the cat to watch her! Violet shook her head slowly, giving Guenhwyvar a look that clearly indicated she felt betrayed, and the magical panther had the audacity to look smug as she growled a third time.

"Violet...do I need to come up there?"

"No, father!"

Violet smiled at the recollection as she dropped the last ten feet to the ground. She landed in a roll, narrowly missing both of her parents who had been standing in the front yard talking. "I WIN!"

The door burst open mere moments later and a triumphant-looking Zaknafein emerged, panting for breath. His expression quickly turned incredulous, however, when he noticed his little sister already standing there, picking bits of twigs and leaves out of her stark white hair. "You cheated!"

"Did not! You never said we had to use the _stairs_!"

"Well..." he couldn't think of a retort offhand, so he settled for "I'll get you!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

Zak growled menacingly and lunged towards her, and Violet shrieked and began a mad dash down the road, laughing all the way.

Drizzt raised his eyebrows and shouldered his pack. "Guess we're ready to go then."

"Aye, I'm guessin' so!" Cattie-brie smiled wryly. "_How_ old are they now?" She slipped her hand into Drizzt's and they turned and followed their children down the road.

Nobody looked back.

_Kel'nar_ = dad

**A/N: Now complete. All reviews welcome.**

My apologies for taking so long to finish this story! Now for the excuse list...

-moved, 15 time zones

-had no internet to speak of for several months

-had our first baby! :)

-moved back, another 15 time zones

-Jet-lagged. Really jet-lagged.

-Un-jet-lagged, but baby still jet-lagged. :)

-moved into a new house

-finally got internet

-unpacked

...so, I hope you can understand the lengthy delay :)


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